pages 278-279

Pages 278-279

                Noticing the wood box was empty, after we had finished, I opened the door and stepped out.  Jim, seeing me, said, “I’ll do that, take care of your dishes,” pushing me back in the house. When he had this accomplished, he sat down to read and I to mend several pairs of socks which I noticed needed it, at the last washing.  Here we sat until our eyes grew heavy for sleep, when a faint sound came to us, that of the yapping of our coyote friend.  Arising, and leaving the dying fire with the tea kettle still singing, blew out the lights and retired. 

                Awakening early the next morning we found we had had a light shower during the night, giving the valley a fresh, clean smell, a much needed shower for March had been relatively dry.  But the dry weather had been a big factor in getting the big bench across the canyon, and up on the hill, cleared of the much hated sagebrush, with the many hours, days and weeks to accomplish this task.  The morning remained cloudy and more rain fell later, then the sun broke through and a slight wind came down the canyon, making a rustling sound among the dead leaves and brush along Shirley Creek.  We took from that that our rain was over, for the sun came out again this time to stay.  But, at sunset, clouded up again and along in the wee hours of the morning, a wind came up.  March had not many more days to go and wanting to live up to its name, seemed to think now was the time and blow it did, as though making up for lost time.  Everything that was loose went tumbling merrily on its way, it was most too bad to work out in, but between the blowing we got to the post office and back with our mail.  There were newspapers, magazines, letters, a spring seed catalog and other kinds of catalogs, enough to keep us busy through wind or storm.  This continued for several days and nights, finally subsiding around evening of the fourth day, leaving a red, lowering sky with every crack, corner shelf and everything covered with dust.

                I swept and dusted to no avail, it even seemed to be in our food and had sifted into the hay.  One had to get just right to feed a fork of hay or it went into the canyon along with the rest of the rubbish.  When finally it quieted down, a storm followed, giving us that welcome rain that lasted through the night.  We slept little that night, listening to it beat against the window panes and running off the eves.  By morning though, the ground was white, having changed to snow in the night and was quietly sifting down when we looked out.  But the wind was silent, a calm tranquility seemed to have settled over the land, the white stillness of the snow made one feel like he had been transported to some unknown region.  That was what the land needed and since we were in our home, we had no need for worry, with plenty to eat and wood to burn.  The moisture felt wonderful after the dry harsh wind, so we prayed it would continue and it did, but not quite as long as the wind.  It was one of the biggest snows we had had that winter.  March thought she would at least do some good before departing.  This was great for the range grass that had laid dormant though the long winter months, it also put a darker color in the sage and the bunch grass that grew beneath it, causing the smell of the sage to fill the valley.  This would green up the grass and cause the wild flowers to bloom from the hillsides later in the spring.  It was just what mother nature required for a snow is worth two rains, covering the earth with its moisture and slowly penetrating into it.

                By the calendar, it was spring.  This not only pleased the ranchers, but the stockmen as well, who were always anxious to get the cattle out on the range, after months of feeding from hay stacks, dwindling to a point where feed would be scarce, if winter held sway,.  Sunshine was the ruling factor for the next week, the days warmer and longer, causing the birds to chatter louder and more frequently from the canyon below the house.  This was music to our ears, a keynote to spring for the little breezes foretold of it.  Now March was gone and April came in like a lamb, with the same loving weather.  There was a  feeling of newness, everywhere, grass was growing in warm sheltered nooks, even the pebble filled stream seemed to say “welcome spring” as it flowed along in its well worn bed, witnessing the return of spring year after year, even the air put a warm glow in one’s heart, the cloudless sky sun bathed the mountain tops and valleys alike, a joyous feeling just to be alive, such fresh clean air, the hens put a few extra notes to their cackle and that evening when I fed and picked up the eggs I found two wanting to set.  They, too, were endowed with spring.

                I thought “Ok, but I’ll have to get eggs other than these.”  I began to think of how good fried chicken would taste, putting me in a notion to set them, so up the hill I went almost on the run, out to where Jim was- telling him of the affair, saying, “Isn’t that great and fried chicken, too.”

                “By all means” he said, “we’ll get eggs to set them, anybody can see you are hungry for fried chicken.”

                So the next morning , we drove to some friends of ours below Sublett. They had brown leghorns and Rhode Island Red Chickens crossed that made good layers and also quite large for meat.  We went in to visit a bit and nothing would do but we’d have to eat dinner with them.   In the course of the conversation, I said my father had gotten eggs there for setting a few days before, as he went by from working on a barn, farther up the Creek.  I thought, “Good, I’ll have fryers about the same time mother will.”